The reason why Miranda tends to smile
by sinadino
Summary: ...when she thinks of bad headaches  apparently my title is too long ;  it's a little fluff/humor stand alone piece.   Huge thanks to darandkerry for her betaing this


**The reason why Miranda tends to smile when she thinks of bad headaches**

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><p>l<p>

Her head hurt.

Her left hand itched and throbbed with pain.

Her right hand slowly ventured away from her side.

Sheets.

Cotton.

Not her bed.

Bad. Very bad.

There was a heavy weight on her stomach. Pressing on her already full bladder.

Worse.

Andy took a few deep breaths before daring herself to open her eyes. She quickly slammed them shut. Bright light filled the room. Everything seemed to be stark white. Even the head on her stomach...

Wait! What head?

Andy's eyes flew open and she blinked a few times to adjust to the light as she slowly took in her surroundings.

Miranda Priestly. It was Miranda's head resting on her stomach!

The rest of the woman was somehow slumped in a chair next to her bed.

A hospital bed.

The entire room was white. White table, white curtains, white closet, white bed and a white haired woman. Andy tried desperately to remember how she'd gotten here.

Doug and Lily had dragged her out, after weeks of sulking over leaving the dragon lady's employ. They'd claimed she needed to get out more.

Andy distinctly remembered doing tequila shots in some gay bar. After that, everything was blank. If not to say, white. She chuckled at her own little joke.

Bad. Very bad idea. Chuckling made her head hurt even more.

The other head moved, stirring from its resting place. Andy held her breath and watched as bleary eyes opened and blinked once, then twice, before locking on to her own..

"Sweetheart, how are you feeling?"

Twilight zone. Absolutely.

"Honey? Please say something."

"Miranda?" Andy grimaced. _'Smart, really smart. Of course, it's Miranda Priestly; you knew that before, you nuthead', _Andy thought to herself.

"You must have hit your head really hard." Miranda's voice was soft, caring. A hand reached out and gently eased a strand of hair from Andy's face.

Andy frowned. "Why am I here?"

"Uh..." Miranda uncharacteristically stammered.

And why did that particular question make her former boss blush and lose all ability to form words? Andy thought, as she struggled to make sense of her situation.

"Miranda?"

"You... I... We..."

Twilight zone.

"How much do you remember?"

"I went out with my friends."

"And after that?"

"The last thing I remember is drinking Tequila."

"Oh." Miranda seemed disappointed.

"What do you mean 'oh'?"

Andy could tell that the other woman was desperately trying to find an answer.

"You hit your head and were unconscious. I brought you here."

"I guessed that much - more or less. But how did I hit my head? And why are you here? Where are Lily and Doug?"

Miranda tried to hide her feelings, but Andy could tell that her words had somehow hurt the older woman.

"Miranda, you're worse than Doug when he tries not to tell me about his newest love interest. I swear, it's like pulling teeth with him. In your case, those must be wisdom teeth."

A dry chuckle. That might be a start, Andy thought.

Turning her head, Miranda gazed at the curtains, willing for them to reveal what might be behind them so she'd actually have something to look at.

"Is that a hickey?" Miranda's head whirled around and her hand shot up to her neck to hide the bruise in question.

"Hey, we're both adults. I just wouldn't have thought you'd let someone..."

Again, there was that blush, and Andy suddenly remembered Miranda's first word to her when she'd awakened. "Sweetheart?" she repeated softly, her eyes watching Miranda closely.

Miranda stiffened and cast her gaze to the floor.

"You called me sweetheart. Why?"

"If you don't remember, it might be for the best if I don't tell you." The editor mumbled.

"Can I decide on that after I know what you're hiding?" Andy's tone had changed. She still felt insecure, but her voice didn't show it as much. It was soft, coaxing.

"Miranda? Please tell me. I need to know."

"We met outside that club."

"What club?"

"I don't remember its name. But you were quite drunk." Miranda almost smiled at the memory of Andy's excited expression when she'd first spied Miranda.

"Okay."

"You saw me and, before I could reach my car, you had me."

"I had...?"

"Andrea, if you want to hearthe story,then listen and don't interrupt me."

"Sorry."

"You said a few things and I ended up driving you home."

Andy started to interrupt again, but a single finger on her lips stopped her.

"You kissed me. Heaven knows why I allowed it, but I did."

"And I don't remember? Dammit!" Miranda's glare didn't faze Andy. She hated that she didn't remember. A once in a lifetime occurrence, and she couldn't recall any of it.

"Apparently you don't."

"And what else? How...?" Andy's words trailed off and she pointed at her bandaged head.

Miranda fidgeted. Her fingers twitched, and Andy reached out to calm the older woman.

Her head didn't seem to remember, but her hand certainly did.

Fingers intertwined and a thumb softly stroked a well-manicured hand.

"Please tell me."

"We... we went up to your... to what you call an apartment and, there, you hit your head."

"Just like that?"

The ensuing silence told Andy that there was something else.

"Miranda?"

The arrival of the nurse saved Miranda from answering, and she gently released Andy's hand. Andy tried to reach out but winced in pain at the sudden move.

Miranda spoke to the nurse in hushed tones, and Andy didn't mind one bit. She was relieved that someone else had taken charge and waited paitently for the two women to finish their conversation. Moments later, Miranda informed her that the doctor would be in shortly to evaluate her and determine if she could be released. Miranda could only hope he had some kind of pill that could jog her memory.

l

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><p>l<p>

Miranda sat in the kitchen of her townhouse, rather proud of herself. After the doctor had signed the release papers, she'd taken Andrea home. Now, the young woman was sleeping soundly in Miranda's guestroom.

During the drive to the townhouse, Miranda had successfully managed to distract Andrea from any more questions. The medication had certainly helped. It had kept Andrea sleepy and much more compliant.

She was relieved that there were no further injuries. No broken bones, no concussion. Just a bad headache. Miranda chuckled. Maybe later she would tell Andrea what had happened. She wasn't sure if it was wise, she'd certainly never live it down, but knowing Andrea's sense of humor, the younger woman might find it funny.

Who would've thought that she'd kick out when Andrea's talented tongue had brought her to orgasm? Kick out so hard that her foot would meet the chin of her lover and shove Andrea backwards against the wall, rendering her unconscious and in the need of medical attention?

Miranda sighed tiredly and a bit gratefully, too. Thank God she'd achieved orgasm first.


End file.
